Unrequited 2: Sacrifices
by psquare
Summary: [One-shot. MirSan] One night. One night that broke- and made- a couple. One night that saw them make the epitome of sacrifices. One night that decided whether their love even existed or not. One night… they would never forget.


**_Author's note (Very important; please read): _**This story is a **sequel** to Unrequited, by Lucinda the Maid. The following has been written **after** obtaining permission from the said author. (Thanks, Lucinda!)

Do read the original. This is my interpretation and version on why the events in Unrequitedhappened, and what happens next. Do read and review, for all feedback would certainly be appreciated!

**_Unrequited 2: Sacrifice_**

He could not sleep.

The words, though a simple truth, held a deeper meaning and multiple reasons so complex and disturbing, that they swirled around in his head like a bewildering whirlwind. The stillness of the lake and the serene moonshine reflected on its calm waters caused a strange kind of jealousy in him; he wished he could rein in his inner turmoil as well, and analyse his emotions as clearly as the pale moon was reflected on the lake's waters.

His fingers groped around in the mud next to him, finally finding a good-sized rock and throwing it in the water. The _plop_ sound as the stone made contact with the water and the ripples that followed and disturbed the calm he envied so much, caused a sort of sadistic pleasure in him. He suddenly smiled at himself, wondering if he felt that if _he_ couldn't retain his characteristic calm, then everything else should follow suit. Wow, if that was true, then he must be more similar to a certain hanyou than he had ever imagined.

_Get a grip, Miroku,_ he instructed himself. He leaned back against the large boulder he was sitting next to, the rueful smile still etched on his face. _You're getting jealous of **nature**_.

The wind carried to the young monk a faint sound, a sound which, upon recognition, wrenched his heart like nothing ever had or ever will. His grin faded and his forehead creased. It was the sound of a woman sobbing. That was a bad thing, yes, but not enough to cause him so much heartache. No, the woman sobbing was not just any woman.

It was Sango.

Every part of him ached to go and put an arm around her shoulders, speak soothing words into her ear, flash the gentle smile that always seemed to cheer her so much. But he couldn't.

Not after what he'd just said to her.

He hugged his knees to his chest, a hidden habit that evolved in his childhood whenever he was confused, and stared up at the sky, as if he could see all the solutions to his problems written in glowing letters against the midnight blue. But he knew that God couldn't help him in this; he had to help himself.

When Sango had come and spoken the golden words expressing her love for him, when her soft lips had emphasised every syllable of the simple sentence, when her eyes shone with uncharacteristic, intense devotion… he just hadn't known how to react. What she had said to him was such a bolt out of the blue… sure, he _had_ expected her to say it one time or the other, but… not so soon. Not with such intensity, animation, devotion, _fervour_… a hungry feminine eagerness to live the rest of her life with her love, so much so that she was ready to give up on her other ambitions in life.

It wasn't like the Sango he knew at all.

That's why he had to… say it. He didn't want Sango to lose what she was at all, because she was… _perfect_, just perfect the way she was. The woman he admired was the _real_ Sango, the demon-slayer Sango, a woman so determined, strong and brave, that she was willing to risk her very life to protect those she cared about. To save them.

Like her brother, Kohaku.

He had always been in awe of her determination to get back her brother at all costs, from the evil clutches of Naraku. He had also found it rather hard to believe that such a beautiful and slender body encased amazing skills, and a soul that was as strong, maybe even stronger, than the legendary samurai of old. He was truly lucky to even know her, let alone travel with her as a friend.

But when she had brought up the discussion about the future of their lives together, of how they would live happily after Naraku was killed, disturbed and alarmed him. She had dismissed the imminent possibility of Kohaku's death without much thought, which was entirely unlike her, and had even told him- not in so many words exactly but definitely implying- that she'd give up on her brother's life just so that he, Miroku, could live. The last Sacred Jewel shard that was sustaining her brother was one of the pieces to the key to remove the curse of the black hole from his hand… but he hadn't paid much attention to it. If he had to die, he'd die. But he'd not let Sango's ambitions and happiness die for him.

Also, she seemed to have completely ignored the fact that he would mostly likely die in a few months- thanks to his curse- and the future of their lives together was not a plausible thing to discuss just then. But she had _overlooked_ it, just to be with him…

It was not right.

He just _knew _it.

Wasn't she the one who'd reiterate to the group again and again that thinking wistfully about fantasised futures and not focusing on the _present_, would very likely lead them to their deaths? Wasn't she the one who'd let _nothing_ come between her and protecting her loved ones? But now… she had really, inexplicably changed.

Well, not inexplicably, he knew. _He_ was the cause of the dangerous change in her.

He had _had_ to stop it, before it had gone too far. That's why he had had to say no to her confession. To save her soul, her ambitions, her brother, her _life_…

… from herself, and her love.

Nothing had prepared him for the pain that he had seen in her eyes at that word, though. Absolutely nothing. He had slunk away to the lake when she had her eyes closed; he could not bear to witness her raw pain. Nothing could block out her sobs, though. They were so heart-wrenching that tears nearly welled up in his eyes.

Nearly.

Miroku reminded himself that he was doing this for her own good; reason and logic agreed whole-heartedly with him. But his heart… it rebelled, alright. He had been with many girls, 'fallen in love' a whole lot of times, but never had he cared for a woman as much as he cared for Sango.

And that scared him.

He was determined to keep it to friendship, to caring; nothing more. His nails dug into the ground at a particularly loud sob, the cool mud wedging into his fingernails doing nothing to cool his heated, guilty soul. If his 'rejection' hadn't been bad enough, he had even kissed her, dammit! A kiss to quieten her, soothe her… a last kiss. He could still feel it on his lips. He knew she must be feeling it, too. He also knew that it was hurting her, inwardly.

A distant corner of his mind wondered why Inu Yasha, Shippo and Kirara, with their super-sensitive ears, or even Kagome, who _must_ have heard Sango's crying, were not doing anything. They were probably eavesdropping.

_Well, let them eavesdrop_, he thought. _Let them know that there is nothing more than friendship between Sango and I_. He swallowed. _Nothing more than friendship._

And yet… what is it _really_ so…?

Letting out a growl of frustration, he let go of another tiny rock missile he'd found on the ground at the lake, watching with intensified satisfaction as ripples once more disturbed the still surface of the lake. Nature _shouldn't_ be calm, he felt, when his own turmoil was killing him from within.

Maybe that sounded self-centred, but after all he'd sacrificed … _sacrificed? Yes… sacrificed…_ for Sango, her retribution and happiness, he _deserved_ to be a little self-centred, right?

Right?

Another rock hit the water, followed by another sigh of desperation.

-

-

-

Sango wasn't particularly enamoured to the sounds of the creatures of the night, but tonight, they were the only ones keeping her company, as she swamped in her grief. The chatter of insects, frogs and the general sounds of night life in the forest filled the air around her, seemingly settling like a warm blanket around her shoulders. The bitter wind turned her tears into frigid icicles that traced slow, painful path down her cheeks. Her head pounded from crying, and her body was shivering without adequate cover in the cold night.

But she hardly noticed all this. There was only one thing in her mind just then: Miroku, the man she loved, whom she had _thought_ loved her back… and his absolute, heart-breaking rejection of her love. Not just her love, she felt, but a rejection of _her_, as a whole.

She just couldn't understand it. She had given up everything for him, and still, that was not enough? Or was it the way she had treated him… hitting him every time he had made a lecherous move at her, at certain times, not _trusting_ him enough… he had laughed at it then, but was he really hurting inside over it? So much so that he felt he couldn't reciprocate her love? Another wave of regret and self-berating hit her.

The tears rolled down faster, hotter.

What could she do now, though? Soon the tears were going to seem utterly useless, and she would continue her life as usual. There would be a gaping hole in her soul, of course, but still, she would carry the memory of Miroku in her mind forever- his gentle, knowing smile, the intense indigo-blue eyes that cleverly disguised the lecherous sparkle within, his dark hair framing his handsome face… that image would stay with her for eons to come; even follow her into the lands of the dead.

That, and his friendship, was the most of him that she could hold on to, now.

With that thought, she raised a shaking hand and wiped away her tears. It was very unbecoming of a demon-slayer of her status to be breaking down like this. What would've Father thought had he been here? She needed to get on with her life, unmindful of the emotional fluctuations that occurred within and outside her. Her characteristic calm soon settled like a mask over her tear-stained, beautiful face, and she forced herself to think clearly.

Miroku had wanted no love… if that's what made him comfortable and happy, then so be it.

She got to her feet, sweeping her gaze around her. Miroku was no where in sight; he probably had felt too uncomfortable around her. _Uncomfortable…_ She had to tell him. Tell him that she was sorry; that she had been too rash and hasty in her judgement; oh hell, just tell him she was sorry that she had even imagined that he could love her back.

She closed her eyes, recalling the geography of the area where they had camped. She remembered- there was a lake nearby- a place perfect for solitude and thinking, a place Miroku was most likely to go to. Stiffening her lips determinedly, she set out toward the lake.

She found him on the bank, resting against a huge rock, staring at the lake in front of him, his eyes sad, distant, troubled. Suddenly, he let out an indecipherable sigh, scooping a small stone from beside him, and throwing it forcefully into the water. He watched the following ripples unwaveringly, his eyes more intense than ever, nearly burning like hot coals. She watched along with him.

Suddenly, Miroku frowned, most probably sensing somebody watching him, and looked sharply to Sango's side. His eyes widened, and he scrambled to his feet. "Sango," he said, his voice resounding with genuine surprise and affection.

"Miroku," she answered back, moving closer to him. As she was a few feet away from him, his eyes showed a spark of an emotion that had become all-too-familiar that night- fear, uncomfortable ness. She stopped short.

They gazed at each other for a long time just like that, neither finding their tongue to say anything. Sango found all the things she had wanted to say lost on the way to her mouth. But they couldn't stare at each other like this forever. _Somebody's got to say something, and I guess it has to be me. The silence is too… **uncomfortable** for him_, Sango thought, her heart breaking once more. She had so many things to say to him. And yet, she had to convey it all in a simple sentence, nothing more.

Nothing less.

She sucked in breath to speak—

"Don't give up."

The words were spoken by the two of them as one, in the same soft whisper, both of them staring into the depths of each other's eyes. Both their eyebrows rose, and colour rose to both their cheeks. Sango turned her face away, unable to control the blood rushing to her face. Finally, when some semblance of control had come back to her, she turned back to him and said softly, "Don't give up on what, Miroku?"

His sincere gaze still locked with hers, he spoke. "Don't give up on your life, Sango, that's all I ask." A ghost of a rueful smile played on his lips. "I'm so sorry Sango, but I had to do this… I didn't want you giving up on your ambitions, your determination to save Kohaku… just because of _me_. I- I wouldn't be able to bear that." His forehead creased. "Please understand."

Sango looked up at him, her eyes wide, not knowing what to make of his words. Were they a sign of hope that maybe… maybe…

"What did _you_ not want me to give up on, Sango?" Miroku's quiet voice interrupted her thoughts. "Me?" Sango said, still a little startled. "I want you to _live_, Miroku. I know that we can defeat Naraku before- before the curse strikes." Her voice grew even softer. "Don't give up on yourself. That's what I wanted you to know."

"On myself…" he pondered. He looked at her. "Is it possible?"

Sango was confused by his question. She looked to him for further elucidation.

"Is it possible," he tried again, "that just maybe, we misunderstood each other?"

_Misunderstood…_ Sango thought back over the night's events, a slow realisation teasing the edges of her mind. Yes, of course they had! She had wanted to ease some of his pain; that is why she had finally gone and professed her love to him. He had been alarmed at her willingness to sacrifice everything for a seemingly dying man, and had refused, for her sake.

_For her sake._

The thought induced a thrill within her, her heart beat with the new happiness that her dreams had _not_ been shattered; that the man she loved, loved her back.

"It _is_ possible, Miroku," Sango said, her voice barely a whisper. "In fact, I think it is true."

A slow smile grew on his face and he stepped closer to her. "I didn't think you'd come back here, you know," he said. She smiled back at him. "I guess I still had my hopes."

A small laugh escaped the young monk's lips. "Never mistrust a demon-slayer's instincts." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Sango, I truly am, for causing you such pain."

"The very same here, Miroku," Sango said, moving even closer to him, until they were only centimetres apart. Miroku slid an arm around her waist; she didn't protest- she allowed herself to be enveloped in his embrace, feeling complete happiness for the first time in a very long while.

A tumultuous night it had been- a night of pain, tears, misunderstanding, confusion, _sacrifice_… but also a night that had reinforced their now-unquestionable bond. Sango fell deeper into Miroku's arms.

Her love was not unrequited, after all.

-

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**_A/N: _**There you go! Here's hoping that it lives up at least marginally to the brilliance of the original one! Also note that this is my first attempt at writing a fic that is complete romance. Do let me know what you think!


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